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We took our sandwiches outside again, and this time she seemed thoughtful and quieter.

My gaze drifted to her arms, which were covered by three-quarter length sleeves and I could just barely see the end of her tattoo peeking out.

“What made you get the tattoo on your arm?” I found myself asking before I knew what was happening.

Cadence’s eyes snapped to my face.

“I know you have a tattoo, relax. You didn’t think I wouldn’t look up your social media?”

Her eyes went wide and the color drained from her face.

“You looked at my social media?”

She looked like someone had died.

“Yes? Did you not think that would be part of the background check?” Why was this a shock to her?

“No, I know someone would, but I didn’t know you’d see it,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I only did a quick scan. Not a deep dive. I didn’t see anything incriminating, if that’s what you’re worried about, Cadence. Calm down.”

My voice was more forceful than I meant it to be, but she did need to get a handle on herself. “Do you really think I would have hired you if I’d seen something I didn’t approve of?” I asked her.

She opened her mouth to say something and slammed it shut and shook her head. “I guess not.”

“What were you scared I was going to find?” I asked, suddenly intrigued.

“Nothing,” she said, looking away quickly, her face going from too pale to brilliant red.

“Can I see it? Your tattoo,” I clarified.

She was quiet for so long that I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me, but then she rolled up her sleeve and turned her arm toward me.

The tattoo was delicately done with soft lines and blurred colors of a profusion of wildflowers that covered the upper half of her arm. It must go all the way to the top of her shoulder because I couldn’t see all of it.

“I got it a few years ago. I knew I wanted a tattoo, but didn’t know what I wanted to get. So I made an appointment to put the pressure on myself and still didn’t know until I got to the shop. I confessed to the tattoo artist that I didn’t know what I wanted, and they gave me a book to look through. I didn’t see anything and then I basically just told the tattoo artist to pick something for me. Yeah, I know,” she said when I let out a shocked sound. I couldn’t imagine agreeing to let someone put something permanently on my body like that.

“And then I came back an hour later and she showed me this book of illustrations and what she had in mind and I told her to go for it. I know it could have turned out bad, but it was exactly what I needed at the time. Just worked out.” She stared down at her arm and then pulled her sleeve down again.

“It is good that it worked out. You could have ended up with an embarrassing pornographic cartoon, or something even worse,” I said, and she choked on a bite of her sandwich.

“Yeah, that would have been bad. But I had her show me what it was before she inked me. I’m not that reckless.”

Reckless. Yes, she was. That was obvious. Normally I would have avoided her. My life was all about order and restraint. But something about Cadence’s kind of reckless drew me. Just hadn’t figured out what it was yet.

“No tattoos for you?” she asked, turning the question around on me.

“No, absolutely not. No offense.”

She shrugged her tattooed arm. “None taken. You can do what you want with your body.”

Her words made me feel warm and I fanned myself even though there was a chill in the air.

“Any plans for new tattoos?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not at the moment. Don’t feel the need for it. Maybe I’ll pierce something though.”

Now I was the one choking. Obviously she was talking about ears or nose, but for some inexplicable reason, my mind went to piercing other parts of the human anatomy.